The Caged Bird Finally Sings

It's been years. Years upon years since I last sang.

Time takes a toll on the voice, and for so long, I was actually afraid to sing. Afraid that I'd go back to my "diva" attitude which was actually completely unintentional from the start.

But one day at Mass, the choir was so beautiful and I was so taken up into prayer by that beauty that I knew it was finally time to sing again. As if it were a direct message from God, that day at the end of Mass there was an announcement that they were looking for choir members.  My heart rose and crashed at the same time; I am not available, ever, for their regular practice time. I couldn't join the choir.

In hope, though, I approached the Music Director, introduced myself and explained that I wanted to sing, used to cantor long, long ago, and that I couldn't join the choir. Might she have a place for me?

Just then a friend of mine passed by and we greeted each other. She agreed immediately (never having ever heard me sing) that I could Cantor with her. I urged the MD to "audition" me, insisting I might not be good enough. I know full well I don't have the range I used to possess and I, like everyone else, loathe bad cantors who don't know when to step down.

In our culture of entitlement and "self-esteem", far too many people are doing things they simply don't have the gifts to actually carry out.

My first rehearsal with my friend went well and our voices blended well together. That weekend as we sang together, it was beautiful, if not perfect (on my part).  The sound guy approached us afterwards and said he couldn't tell us apart, and expressed that he hoped we'd often sing together for that Mass.

It was a good start, and I was happy.

Tonight I sang again. But this week's rehearsal in preparation didn't go well and I know well my voice is not up to par. Not yet. For all I know, maybe not ever. But the Music Director didn't seem concerned, and I remained grateful to be able to sing with someone else; a friend who is much better than I am!  I knew that I could back off if I couldn't hit the note. She could.

Unfortunately, we weren't able to rehearse together this week, so I let her take all the solo parts. Even though I practiced them, and in fact, because I practiced them, I realized I simply couldn't do it. She was gracious and offered me these solos, but I turned them down in good conscience, out of a desire that the liturgy be beautiful.

Back in High School when I cantored, I admit I reveled in being a soloist. I loved it! Especially considering that I hadn't learned until Jr. High sometime that I actually had a good voice. To put it to use was amazing! And to receive accolades, however informal, was more amazing still!

All of us grow up, though, and having been away from the Church, and from singing for a very long time, I now come back with a different attitude.

First, I don't have the voice I had then, so there is cause for very conscious humility. (And that is NOT an oxymoron!). Secondly, I now know quite well what the Mass is about and Whom is to be honored, and it ain't me! Thirdly....it's a privilege to be able to sing, to Cantor the Mass. To truly pray, in song, the Mass in leading the other worshippers in those prayers.

I've learned that time takes a toll on the voice, but it tempers the soul, and as imperfect as I am, it is good to know that perhaps I still have something to offer. Maybe it's not that pretty right now, and maybe it never will be. But it's something, it's adequate and thank God that He is giving me the chance once again to sing for Him.

Thank you, Jesus.

Forgetting About God's Love

I've been going through a long period of spiritual dryness, struggling in prayer and still trying to wade through my days at work. Certainly I have continued to pray, especially the rosary (some days that's all I could really manage), and work in the Lord's vineyard.

Perhaps a side-effect of working within the Church is "being there" for others, preaching about how God loves them, struggling to love others even in their worst moments, and, well, this kind of thing takes a toll.

Today at Mass I received the answer to what has been ailing me. The homily was about Eucharistic Adoration, and because of work, of late I've missed mine a great deal. But this priest, this blessed priest of God gave me a huge reminder as to why we go to Adoration:  because God loves us.

I sat back in my pew, astonished that I'd forgotten such a simple, basic thing. I've been, in my spiritual life, focusing on how I have to love God, and I do love him, and want to love him more. As I listened and pondered and took the priest's words to heart, I realized that in all that loving, all that work, I wasn't at all praying about how God loves me.

This is something I've often struggled with; I've written of it before. But somehow, in the last several stressful months, I forgot that I'm not the one who's supposed to be doing all the "acting". That's God's job. For me to be effective in my work, for my prayer life to bear fruit, to even have a "life", it starts with God's love...for me.

All of us learn to love because we have first experienced love.  John Paul II, in Redemptor hominis, as well as in many other writings, pointed out time and time again, "Man cannot live without love."  Indeed. Everything we are, everything we have, comes from God's love, His very Goodness. If we are to love, we first must know His love. If we do not realize we are loved by God, how can we possibly carry love to others?

We can't. It's as simple as that.

So my advice to you, if you are struggling in prayer as I have been, take some time away from your regular meditations and just BE in God's presence, rest there, and ask Him to reveal to you how much He loves you.  Let him love you for awhile, so that you can learn to love Him more perfectly.

God Breathes - Man Receives - and Reciprocates

It occurs to me upon watching August Rush for the umpteenth time (I'm a slow learner), that the pipe organ scene that makes me cry EVERY TIME I watch it has a deeper meaning.

I connect it of course to the Mass, for as a teen I was a cantor mostly accompanied by the Pipe Organ, always wondering why my Mom was head-over-heels for it. In my life it seemed merely consequential. In fact, at the time, I hated cantoring for the Organ and  preferred piano for its unwavering 5th grade simplicity. It didn't challenge me, ergo I could sing with it, without ever being challenged beyond the level of elementary music.

Now, as I hear the gloriousness of the Pipe Organ through August Rush, even though my own parish has the premier Pipe Organ in the entire Archdiocese, I so rarely hear it.  Every time I do, via film or in real life, I am brought to my knees, and when is my own parish, and I hear it during the Sacred Liturgy, I am not just brought to my knees, but to tears for it so brings me to God as it is designed.

You see, the Pipe Organ hearkens back to Genesis...it gives back to God what He gave to Man (to US as humanity for the theologically-challenged among us).

God gave us (Man) life by breathing into Adam and therefore, all his progeny (US!).

The Pipe Organ is man expelling that breath back to God in holiness, a response of thanksgiving, supplication, praise, and sacrifice in ultimate worship.

Take a deep breath. Now expel it with all your force, knowing others are doing so the same time as you during Mass - all over the world, in every time and every century, including now and eternity beyond us all. 

That is what the Pipe Organ represents and why, as described in Sacrosanctum Concilium, the Vatican II document on the Mass, holds it in such high and necessary regard.

When such a noble instrument falls silent we lose our liturgical life and the worship due unto God in its complete fullness.

Explains a lot about our sad liturgical times, doesn't it?

The Word Can Speak for Himself: Stop Being So Dramatic!

Point 1: Lectors vs Readers

I am a huge proponent of using proper terms in the proper settings. The word "Lector" is one of them. Canonically (ie referring to Canon Law), there is no such thing as a "Lector" in our parishes, and no, Vatican II did not do away with this appointed position. The reality is this: only men can be appointed  Lectors, although the 1983 Code of Canon Law allows uninstalled men and women both to READ during the liturgy, and for both, it is a privilege. Still, only MEN can be appointed, and so I find it both insulting and irritating that we continue to call READERS "Lectors" as this misuse and overuse of terminology denigrates the Office of Lector itself, and leaves us to wonder if the Readers at Mass are in fact installed Lectors or are just filling the role because the Bishop refuses to install the proper men or because not enough have stepped up to the plate.

I suspect it's more a lack of education on the part of all lay people. I had to pay thousands of dollars and get a Master's degree to obtain this simple information that should be readily available and explained to the general populace of any given parish. It's not like Canon Law is a secret.

Lest someone protest, indeed, as a Minor Order it was suppressed, but the new Code did NOT suppress the installation of the position or the obligation upon those installed to serve in that capacity during the Liturgy. Ergo, if an installed Lector is in attendance at a given Mass, there should not be an uninstalled Reader performing the liturgical role.

Point II: Dramatic Readings of the Lectionary

It has become the fashion at my parish for the readings to be read dramatically, according to the whims of the canonically not-installed Readers, both male and female, although I cringe to admit the problem seems to have been introduced by a woman.Still...the virus seems to affect men, too.

Nearly every time I have attended Mass at my parish within the last year or so, I have had to look around to see if, in fact, I was present at a "Concert" given by an Elocutionist as portrayed in "Anne of Green Gables."

To be clear; I am not saying the readings should be proclaimed in a monotone! That is just as awful! Rather, I am merely suggesting that those doing the Readings for the Mass each week follow the description given in the GIRM, paragraph 56:

"The Liturgy if the Word is to be celebrated in such a way as to promote meditation, and so any sort of haste that hinders recollection must clearly be avoided."

Yes, indeed. However, pausing dramatically after every few words and over-emphasizing every third word a la melodrama does not meet the theological understanding of "meditation". It falls to "dramatic interpretation" and is TERRIBLY distracting!

So as not to be uncharitable, I quote the continuing context of the GIRM, paragraph 56:

"During the Liturgy of the Word, it is also appropriate to include brief periods of silence, accommodated to the gathered assembly, in which, at the prompting of the Holy Spirit, the word of God may be grasped by the heart and a response through prayer may be prepared. It may be appropriate to observe such periods of silence, for example, before the Liturgy of the Word itself begins, after the first and second reading, and lastly at the conclusion of the homily." 

This puts the first part in context. I suspect that the more dramatic Readers tend to read the first part of this paragraph (assuming they have actually read this very important document) and stop there, thinking that their idea of "meditation" and "silence" is the proper one. Therefore, we in the pews are afflicted by their own PERSONAL reading versus their reading of the Word for the rest of us, who are trying to meditate upon it.

Appreciation for a Role Carried out Appropriately

One of the things I most loved about my  various monastery and convent visits was this: they all understood meditative reading in accordance with the General Instruction of the Roman Missal. Not a single Sister got up and read according to her own interpretation. Certainly her voice rose and fell for general emphasis, but it was always carried out to foster our OWN meditation, so that we could allow the Holy Spirit to emphasize words and phrases...not the reader.

Every time a Dramatic Reader takes the pulpit in my parish, I consider fleeing. The first time it happened, the woman actually looked at the audience congregation and BEAMED at us as though we were supposed to applaud. And I suspect that were it not for the venue, we would have out of pure reflex. I seriously hadn't heard such vocal inflection since the melodramatic celebrity Elocutionist in Anne of Green Gables. I had to look down to see if I was wearing white gloves and a formal gown, wondering if perhaps Anne herself would get up to give us her rendition of "Our Lady of Shallot" or "The Highwayman" right there in the middle of the Liturgy.

Since that time, this behavior has become all the rage of our parish Lectors  Readers. When certain personages step up, I confess I inwardly groan and pick up the missal, realizing that I need to read it for myself and entirely tune the Reader out until she or he has completed their torture routine. If I don't pick up the book, I miss the reading entirely as the drama is just far too distracting to understand what God is trying to  say to me (other than to pray for my lack of patience and to pray for the person reading...yeah, I got THAT loud and clear. Anything else?)

I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not. We in the pews have a right to speak up, too, and it's not proper to throw tomatoes at Mass or cut the cords to the sound system. That kind of thing is generally frowned upon.  Unfortunately, it has become the culture in our parishes that those who speak up, even gently, are cranks, and no real criticism is tolerated, for fear it might hurt someone's feelings.

God forbid someone in a liturgical role is introduced to the GIRM and therefore has their feelings offended by official documentation.

The Readings at Mass are not meant to be read as though proclaimed in a theatre, but are meant to be proclaimed in a worshipful setting, open to be received by the people in the pews, all ranges of people. There is a place for drama, but the Word of God doesn't need any help from we lay people; He can stand alone just fine on His own if the Readers would only stand aside enough to let Him speak.

I long for the monastery, and the sober, truly meditative reading of the Word of God, in the Office, in the Lectionary, and pray that one day, our lay Readers will also cultivate an appreciation for this lost, yet simple, art of proclaiming the Word to the Faithful devoid of their own personal dramatic interpretation.

The Theory of Spiritual Insanity

It hit me late this week; why things have been so hellish and why they even started out so badly on Monday. (Which wasn't really the start but was the worst strike).

Every other year, all the diocesan priests head down to Rochester, MN, for a presbyteral council with the Bishops, leaving the care of the diocese in the hands of the religious community priests (Redemptorists, Franciscans, a few others), and a few retired priests who are able to help out.

This means that many parishes don't have Mass at all, because there simply aren't enough priests to go around. My own home parish usually has 3 Masses per day, but during this period of time, that is usually pared down to one or two, meaning many people can't attend as usual. We still have Adoration, and a few parishes may offer communion services (very very rare in this diocese so I'm not sure if any took place), but at my work parish...no Mass. All week.

Usually several of our Adult leaders attend Mass every day of our summer events, and when I'm there for that purpose, I try to attend, too.

This week, it wasn't an option, and the Church remained dark.

Yesterday, Father was back and I was able to slip into Mass just before it began. As I knelt down, a wave of relief flooded over me:  MASS! I sat behind one of our staunchest and most faithful volunteers, knowing she was praying for us and had been, but perhaps was a lone intercessor for most of the week.

We simply hadn't had any prayer support at all and on Monday, it culminated in a vicious spiritual attack, not just involving me, but involving my boss, her events, a youth minister she knew at another parish, one of my co-workers and her daughter - and the weirdness carried on all week long.

The awfulness of the things that happened this week to us seemed so out of left-field, leaving us all, individually, shocked, stunned, and thrown off for the remainder of the week.

My theory is the serious deprivation of Grace normally provided by the several hundred Masses offered each day in the parishes of our Archdiocese, and the thousands of prayers people normally pray during those Masses never took place, for those people were not able to attend. I know, from what parishioners have told me, that during Mass they regularly pray for us and whatever is going on in our programs at the time.

This week...they couldn't.

We should have realized what was coming and asked for for our biggest prayer warriors to ramp it up in any way they could in lieu of the Masses they normally attended. But we didn't think of it.

I don't blame the priests or the Bishop for going outside the diocese; they are handling serious business which they need to be able to do without distraction. And many come back during the week if necessary for funerals, etc, but return to the council when the crisis is over.

That is the nature of evil; it flies under the radar, not quite reaching to crisis level requiring the return of the priest, but it reveals the power of the Mass and the prayers of the faithful during Mass to keep evil at bay.

I pray that what we suffered in our diocese this week was a sign of the holy fruitfulness of the priests' meeting in Rochester this week.

The LORD'S throne is established in heaven; God's royal power rules over all.

Bless the LORD, all you angels, mighty in strength and attentive, obedient to every command.

Bless the LORD, all you hosts, ministers who do God's will.

Bless the LORD, all creatures, everywhere in God's domain. Bless the LORD, my soul!

~ Psalm 103:19-23

Annoyance and the Saints

Hold onto your hats and your pews, friends! This post is going to be half rant half meditation!

Some days I just weep for the state of our parishes and the souls within them - and the very fact that our fallen nature has created our circumstances. Which, ironically, is why we go to Mass.

This morning I attended Mass, arrived early in order to pray. Several others arrived as well, as the church was relatively quiet. Then some families arrived with their fussy children, and more people arrived, and then came a couple who sat behind me, loudly talking to each other.

Recollection gone.  I tried to "offer it up" and be patient. I failed miserably.

They continued with mindless chit-chat, almost in my ear. Or both ears, as it were. I was resigned to the fact this is what Mass was going to be like, until I heard one of them comment, "I really don't like children."

To my surprise, rather than being angry, I was overwhelmed with sadness. Dislike children!? I realized many young ones were crying at that moment, and there was a child in front of me actively playing and talking to his mother. But they didn't bother me nearly so much as the couple behind me talking loudly and stating how much they dislike children.

I'll admit I used to get distracted by children, and quite annoyed by them. Over time, though, I have come to not really notice if they are crying, but rather, if they are silent. A parish devoid of children is a dying parish. I thank God my parish is vibrant and filled with the cries of children! Glory be to God! Alleluia!

And then comes this couple desiring to quash that, while their behavior was far, far worse.

Yes, I was annoyed.

I was annoyed by many things today, and struggled to pray. The music was so theologically bad that I missed the psalm and had to page through and read it for myself.  As the Feast of the Ascension is transferred to the 7th Sunday of Easter in my diocese, today's Gospel, MT 28:16-20 proclaims:  (say it with me!)

 Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations,

baptizing them in the name of the Father,

and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,

teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you.

So, did you catch that? Jesus told us to GO FORTH AND MAKE DISCIPLES OF ALL NATIONS, BAPTIZING THEM AND TEACHING THEM TO OBSERVE ALL THAT JESUS HAS COMMANDED US.

Then our communion hymn sang about bread, and our closing hymn was "As A Fire is Meant for Burning", containing the words:

Not to preach our creeds or customs,

but to build a bridge of care,

UM, WHAT!? How in the world does that line up with the Gospel COMMAND to preach our creeds and customs?

How do we celebrate the Ascension, hear the command of Christ to go forth and evangelize, and then leave church having just sung that we just have to be nice to everybody, but for the love of God, don't, under any circumstances, preach our faith or baptize anyone!??????

Folks, it's no wonder Catholics aren't out there evangelizing and living out today's Gospel command: we undermine ourselves before we even leave the building.

Here's the danger in singing such bad music:  the Arian heresy spread by music. The Arians were great marketers and spread their bad theology through a catchy tune. That overcame the True teachings of the Faith, thus confusing people and leading them into heresy. The brain remembers and repeats music (ever got a bad earworm? Yeah, exactly).  So thousands of people are going to leave today singing all about how we should be nice but never evangelize.

Yes, that annoys me. And it SHOULD. It should annoy YOU, too. It explains a lot about the state of  many Catholics today, doesn't it?

Meditation on what it means to be annoyed

Today, as I fought those annoyances, as always, I tried to think about the Saints. People are people in every age, and Saints were  people, too.

It is a temptation in our age to glorify the Saints so much so that we forget their humanity. We read their writings and we are in awe of their holiness, seeking to learn from them how to follow Christ. If they can do it, WE can do it, right?

Unfortunately, we fall into this weird trap of thinking the Saints were somehow robotic and didn't get annoyed, or angry. We seem to think the Saints were nice to people all the time, and that's why they became Saints: that they learned not to "feel" anything.

Nothing could be further from the truth. The Saints were all human beings and you know what? They got ANNOYED with people and situations! And I'm really glad I don't have to hear what St. Padre Pio would be saying about the music we sing at Mass in our age! I'm glad I don't have to watch St. Thomas Aquinas roll in his grave. I'm glad I don't have to withstand the fiery preaching of St. Paul or the ranting of St. Jerome.

Did you know that St. Francis de Sales had such a massive temper that after his death, they found GROOVES under his writing desk, where he took out his frustrations by scratching the underside repeatedly in effort to control his anger?

And yet, we read his writings, all of which are so gentle and wise. We are led to believe that he was always calm, recollected, and no, not ever angry.

No, St. Francis de Sales was a human being like the rest of us, and he got annoyed.  Without looking at who he was as a human being, we divorce his writings from him as though they could stand alone and be enough. The truth is that St. Francis de Sales, as well as other Saints, wrote from experience, they wrote through their temptations, and they wrote in such a way so as to preach holiness to themselves as well as to others. They were not separate from their spiritual direction; they lived it, too.

It was actually a consolation to me today to reflect upon the humanity of the Saints.

Is Being Annoyed a Sin?

Often I read about liturgical abuses or other things that set people off, and there are always a few jokers in the various com-boxes who suggest there is something wrong with the person who is annoyed. Maybe that's true; we are all sinners, and we do often let our annoyances turn into some kind of personal sin.

I think more often, though, the opposite of that criticism is true:  there's something missing in a human who refuses to be annoyed, for they are repressing their own humanity in a false understanding of what it means to be holy.

It is not a sin to be annoyed or irritated. It would qualify as a passion, I think. It's not anger, but can lead to anger, and anger alone is not a sin. The emotion of annoyance or irritation is simply that: something that tells us something is wrong. Compare it to a bug bite: when we are bitten, we are tempted to scratch at it because it itches! It can be really awful, and so we think about that bite and ponder it and feel that itch and then scratch and scratch until it finally bleeds, and maybe we keep scratching even THEN. And then it might get infected.

Or... we could just feel the annoyance, realize it's there and there's nothing we can do about it, or maybe spray a little Benadryl on it to control the histamine reaction. The bug bite is still there, but we've chosen a different way to handle it.

See the difference? Annoyance is nothing more than a spiritual bug bite. We can zap it by embracing it with virtue or we can scratch at it and let it get infected. The latter is a sin. The former turns it into a path to holiness.

At Mass today,  I hold that I was right to be annoyed: by people talking loudly when they should have been observing silence out of respect to others, annoyed by people claiming they hate children (loudly), annoyed by bad theology. If we aren't annoyed by those things, then we are completely unaware of what Mass is about. That's a problem. Annoyance is actually a gift from God. It is what we DO with annoyance that makes a difference.

We will all struggle with that for our entire lives. Mass equips us through the Sacraments and through the experience of other people who are fallen just like us.

How did the Saints react?  

It is important to learn from the Saints: how did THEY handle things that bothered them, rightly or not?

When we take a look at their writings and biographies, we witness that they sought to overcome their annoyances through practicing the Virtues. They practiced patience by not turning around and slapping offenders who mouthed off in church. They practiced fortitude by being patient throughout the Mass. They considered how much God loves even the most annoying among us. They resolved to love children and their haters more in order to overcome hatred in themselves. When confronted with bad theology, they sought to educate others so that they would know the Truth about God.

 The Saints, when annoyed,  looked to God and said, "Dear God I am so annoyed right now I could spit! Most Adorable Jesus, please grant me peace so that I might love others as you love me in spite of my own faults!"   

The Saints struggled just as we do. That doesn't mean they weren't holy: it means they learned how to handle annoyance and not allow it to degenerate into sin.  They didn't entertain it, but tried to let it change their hearts, not to a position of denial, but as a revelation of Truth and Divine Charity.

St. Catherine of Siena wrote in her "Dialogue" that we obtain every virtue through other people. She knew this well: she was annoyed sometimes, too. She was highly annoyed by the Pope during the Avignon captivity and called him to conversion, and back to Rome in no uncertain terms.

Let us all learn to handle annoyance by following the example of the Saints. We should not fear annoyance, but embrace it and allow it to change our hearts so that we might grow in faith, hope, and charity.

May God grant us all the grace to become Saints through the annoyances in our lives.

Just Words?

Recently, at work, I was giving a very brief presentation about the upcoming changes to the Roman Missal, explaining the reasons for it and what those changes would be. The woman with whom I was speaking responded in anger and shock. She thought the new translation was ridiculous because of the cost of the replacement of books, and didn't see why the words of the Mass really mattered anyway.

"They're just words!" she exclaimed in self-righteous sarcasm, rolling her eyes to make sure I got her point.

All I could do was just shake my head at such a juvenile response, for indeed I did get her point; that I shouldn't waste any time tossing any more pearls before swine. Just words? Really?

When are words "just words"?

Words are powerful. What's that old adage?  Oh, yes, right: "The pen is mightier than the sword." If the pen is writing mere words, how in the world can they cut so deeply and have effects that last throughout history, affecting people from generation to generation? Anyone ever heard of the Magna Carta and the Declaration of Independence and the United States Constitution? Or the famous 1st Amendment guaranteeing "free speech"? If words are "just words" why have an Amendment protecting them?

Anyone ever heard of Martin Luther's theses? Were those "just words" or didn't they create a schism that exists to this day and continues to splinter?

How do people end up being sued for libel over "just words", especially when their crime destroys reputations and lives? How can so many priests, like Fr. Gordon MacRae, among so many others, end up in prison as the result of slander if that slander is "just words"?  How many people have gone to the electric chair, guillotine, firing squad, or some other equally unpleasant way of death, innocent or guilty, when the verdict of "GUILTY" is just a mere word?

Words can destroy people - they have that power.

They also have the power to get unqualified people elected to the Presidency by the fluke of media propaganda. But...it's "just words". So I guess that result is meaningless.

Words have the power to begin wars, to free slaves, to install Kings, to change history - and even re-write it such that people will believe the lies simply because it is in print.

Words have the equal power to reveal Truth even in the face of the worst deception, and in so doing, set people free from intellectual bondage.

Words can encourage, elevate, support, uplift, inform, educate, and bring tidings of great joy to a world lost in darkness. Words revealed the Birth of Christ to the poor Shepherds - but they were "just words", weren't they?

Then we come to the Mass, where we come together in worship of the Almighty God. Are the prayers of the Mass, the prayers we utter in the desperation of our hearts and souls, the prayers uttered in praise and thanksgiving...are those "just words"?  If so, why are we there?  If they're "just words" why should God listen? 

In the Sacrament of Baptism, when we are baptized "In the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit", if they are just words, then we are "just sinners" and not children of God.

In the Sacrament of Confession when the priest says, "...I absolve you in the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit", if those are "just words", then we are not forgiven and never can be.

And the Consecration: when the priest, through the power of the Holy Spirit, utters the words that change the bread and wine into the body, blood, soul, and divinity of Christ - are those "just words"? If so, then Christ is not present and He lied to us a long time ago.

If they are, in the famous statement of Flannery O'Connor, if those are mere, meaningless words, "Then to Hell with it!"

Oh, right...her words were "just words", too. Yeah..I guess words don't really have any meaning. They certainly don't affect us at all, do they? Words have no power, no meaning. They don't do anything. We have the power of speech for no reason whatsoever.

What about the Bible, the "Word of God", and Jesus, "The Word Made Flesh" who dwelt among us?

I guess Jesus has even LESS meaning, then, because He is just "the Word", not even worthy of an "s" to make Him plural.

Just words. Right.

There's no such thing as "just words".

Monastic Life

"Lord, let my cry come to you; do not hide your face from me." 
Ant. 1, Morning Prayer

I really love the contemplative life.

I only arrived home on Saturday, and immediately missed the hours of community prayer, the chanted psalms, chanted prayers, and the flow of life in a religious community.

I loved the fact that no matter what we were doing, it was the ONLY thing I had to do at that given time. When we were praying, there was nothing else on my mind (except the icon, which, of course, was being prayed!). When we were at meals, I was content to be present there, and only there.

When I was working on my icon, I was wholly absorbed into the process, and pondering, as I wrote, the mystery of the Incarnation, the identity of Mary and of Christ. I was realizing my many faults and the very real process of trying to grow in holiness, yet constantly failing. I came to learn that even that is a work of beauty when touched by God's grace.

It seems to me that life was far more real, and more honest, than the life I am living now. I felt....free.

Even though I regularly pray the Liturgy of the Hours, I cannot do so at the same times every day, and so often when I go to pray my mind is on something I have to do next. I almost feel guilty for taking time out to pray and have to struggle hard against that temptation!

Last week, nearly every day it was my privilege to attend Mass in the Extraordinary Form. By the end of the week I was able to follow along, understood how to find my place in the missal, and found that I was far more focused and aware in that form of the Mass than I am when I attend Mass in the Ordinary Form (what many people call the "Novus Ordo" which is somewhat of a perjorative term.)

It was a bit jarring to go from a week of contemplative prayer, Latin chants, and the deep holiness of the Extraordinary Form to Mass in my home parish on Sunday complete with the narcissistic show tunes that tend to characterize (and wreck) the Ordinary Form. On Sunday I was distracted, I was irritated and found that I couldn't focus...because I didn't "have" to; I could understand everything clearly.

Last summer when I visited the Cistercians we talked about Latin; Sister observed that even though they often don't understand the words they are praying, they know the focus is God, and they realize that the Mass, and the prayers of the Liturgy of the Hours is so holy it has its own language. The Mass itself is so profound and mysterious that truly, on this side of the veil we are not MEANT to fully understand it.

We become sanctified by continually seeking the face of God, and, I have found, when things come too easily to us, it's very easy to think we understand everything, and therefore we stop seeking. So it is with Mass in the vernacular; I cannot focus because I have no REASON to focus. Nothing is mysterious; nothing draws me into the Mystery of Christ made present on the altar. I try to focus because I know what's going on, but in the Extraordinary Form, I am forced to look more deeply, to be more invested and in so being, to be more open to God.

I miss that.

I ache for that.

It was not a week of spiritual consolations by any means; most of my prayer life and Mass attendence is fairly dry. I desire to pray and I desire to attend Mass and enjoy doing so because I love God, but in all that I have written above, understand that none of it was about emotion or sentimentality.

Perhaps what I am trying to express is too far beyond words, although I suspect many of the faithful do understand and have the same interior sense.

Marriage to Christ

One of the things that came to me during prayer, and during Mass last week was, of course, the meaning of religious life. I considered the vows to be made, and how Our Lord courts his beloved, drawing her to Him in subtle ways. He is generous and does not withhold His generosity.

In prayer I pondered the vows of marriage, and the changes in life that must take place. If I were to marry, I would go to live with my husband, and his family would become my family. I would have a new circle of friends and acquaintances. I would have to get rid of many things, for they would not be needed or would be impractical in a new life. I would have to make sacrifices, and die to myself so as to offer myself more fully to the union to which I was called. My routine would change, my obligations would change.

So it is with religious life as well. All of that, and more.

I used to think about all the things I'd be "giving up", but in reflecting on the reality, it's not about giving anything up. It's about what is to be gained. If our hands are clinging to material things, they are not open  and able to cling to that which is eternal.

I want a life of prayer, a life of living intensely, a life of holiness.

I will never be satisfied with anything else.

"My heart is ready, O Lord, my heart is ready..." 

~ Ant. 1 Morning Prayer (Wednesday)

Jesus, Take Me With You!

A few months ago, while praying during Mass, as I gazed upon the crucifix after Communion, I found myself asking Jesus to take me with Him.  This is a variation of an old prayer from a few years ago, one of those things that spontaneously comes upon us, and we pray it even if we really don't understand what we are really asking in that moment.

This morning while meditating on the mysteries of the rosary, I suddenly understood, at least to some degree, of what I was asking that day, and as I continued to pray, it all began to make sense.  As always, God's timing is impeccable.

Jesus answered my prayer long before I ever prayed it.

When Jesus went down into the Jordan river, He took on His mission, giving his formal fiat, taking us and the sins of the whole world upon His shoulders. His baptism is symbolic of his acceptance of death, through which we must all descend, and his rising from the waters points to the resurrection.  As He took us with Him into the river, so, too must we die so that we can rise again with Jesus in the resurrection. 

That means that when Jesus went into the Jordan to be Baptized....He took me with Him.

When Jesus preached His Sermon on the Mount, He was speaking directly to me and telling me not to live only according to the minimum requirements, but to go deeper, sacrifice more, and become more and more human. 

When Jesus healed the lepers, restored the sight of the blind man, and exorcised demons, he tooke me with him in tow to show me that it's not actually about physical healing, but spiritual, and that's what He REALLY wants to offer. And so I went with Him into the Confessional so that I, too, could become a sign to the world of His mercy and forgiveness. 

When Jesus broke bread and gave thanks, when He washed the feet of the Apostles, He brought me with Him there, too, to reveal the beginning of the Mass and the origins of the ordained Priesthood, so that not only would I recognize the fulfillment of the Covenant when he died on the Cross the next day, but I would recognize God's own authority in His ministers, and the ongoing presence of Christ in the Mass and in all the Sacraments, especially the Holy Eucharist.

When Jesus prayed and wept in the Garden of Gethsemane, He took me with Him for He was not just weeping over my sin and those of the whole world, but He was fully entering into and taking on our own suffering so that He could weep WITH us and not just FOR us. 

When Jesus went before Pilate, He took me with him so that I, too, could choose to either wash my hands and walk away, or instead, become docile to His love and become the Cross that He carried for my salvation.

When Jesus was scourged at the pillar, He took me with him so that I would know the selflessness of love and the sacrifice that restores true dignity.

When Jesus was crowned with thorns, He took me with Him so that in his degradation, I would be brought to my knees, desiring to offer mercy to Mercy Himself, reaching out to remove the thorns He wore to fulfill the punishment for sin, only to find them piercing my own hands, drawing my own blood, helping me to enter into the suffering of my Savior.

When Jesus walked the road to Calvary, He took me with Him upon His own back, and only fell because I did and the weight of my sin was so heavy he condescended to fall even lower than I so that I would not be lost forever. 

When Jesus was nailed to the Cross, He took me with Him so that I would recognize the impact of sin not just on myself, but upon the world, for which He was willingly being sent to His innocent death.

When Jesus was lifted up on the Cross, He brought me with Him for He drew me into His embrace and gave me rest under the shadow of His wings, where I begged to remain, for I recognized the Cross as my only defense.

Yes, Jesus HAS taken me with Him, every bloody, painful, wretched, agonizing step of the way.  In spite of my obstinance, in spite of my rebellion, in spite of my willful disobedience.  He has taken me with Him and has not let me out of His sight, even when I tried to hide from Him. 

The price He paid for my redemption was so great that He would not, could not, let me go.  He chose instead to suffer in patience, knowing that my hardened and fickle heart could be softened, that His love could overcome my rebellion, and that one day, I might still have a chance to return to Him with all my heart, all my soul, and give Him my whole life.

He asks for nothing less. And I ask for nothing more.
*

Take me with you, Jesus.  Always.

Amen.

Mass for the Feast of All Souls

I just arrived home from Mass, and I'm grieving with the same kind of sadness as that which strikes me to the core on Good Friday. Such is proper, it would seem. Today, and throughout the month of November especially, we remember the souls of those who have died, and we pray for them, offer sacrifices for them, and implore the Saints to intercede as well.

Last night I woke up around 3 am (which is common for me) and realized that I'd almost forgotten a loss very dear to me; my cousin George, who died in April. He's been at the forefront of my mind all day, and in truth, I believe he is asking for prayers. Yet I also have been praying much for my Dad, in hopes that somehow, my measly prayers can perhaps be of some help to him. I guess it's proper that these two souls have been closest to my heart today, for although no one could replace my Dad, George was definitely a "father figure" to me in some ways and I would not be the person I am without either of them.

So my heart is heavy today, as it should be.

This evening at Mass Father's homily nearly brought me to tears. In truth, it did, a little, and I fought mightily to will those tears back into their ducts. I knew if I got started, I would be overwhelmed by the grief he so perfectly named as he spoke about the purpose of today's remembrance, and in considering that everyone there had lost someone close to them. We were there, tonight, in Catholic Churches all over the world, united in our grief and in our prayers for all the Holy Souls.

It was as beautiful as it was sad, but there wasn't any other place I wanted to be in that moment.

After I had received Holy Communion and returned to my pew, I recalled that NOW is the time to unite my grief, there at the foot of the Cross with our Sorrowful Mother. There, at the Cross, where that same sorrow sent Our Lord to suffer death in order to overcome it. It occurred to me that when we grieve, it is a very direct participation in the sufferings of Christ, for before we ever experienced love, He had experienced losses we cannot fathom, and grieved so profoundly He was made incarnate in order to free us from death!

While pondering this, suddenly the words, "May the Passion of Our Lord be always in your heart. May the Passion of the Lord be always in your soul!" so strongly it was as if I was taken directly to Calvary, where I knelt on the stones. I could hear the creak of the heavy Cross that swayed in the wind and in response to Our Lord's gasping breaths. I felt drops of His blood, noted the terrible lashes that wound down His legs even to his feet. It was so real, so vivid, that I knew in that very moment it WAS true, it WAS happening, and it does at EVERY Holy Mass!

The Sacrifice of the Mass is just that; it is the one and only Sacrifice of Calvary, made present for us in all times.

And there is where we most efficaciously offer our prayers and petitions, where we unite our own sufferings, offer ourselves upon the same altar, taking refuge under the shadow of His wings, seeking to hide within Jesus' Most Sacred Heart.

I was torn away from the blessed images that had come to me in prayer, called to stand for the final blessing. As I opened my eyes I felt as though, for a moment, I'd been transported through time...and I never wanted it to end.

Truly, the Mass is more real than anything else we can experience in this life.

The rest of life is only preparation, time spent preparing to go to Mass, and each Mass is an experience of the Eternal Mass to which we are called for eternity. The blessed are those who have gone before us and wait for us to join them when the Master calls.

We mourn those we love, and we are left with grief-spotted lives, torn tapestries revealing those we think should be present in our lives. And yet, if what the Mass reveals is true, even if they are in the fires of Purgatory, they are blessed, for even there they are a PART of the Mass in a way none of us can be. They are in constant prayer...for us. They are free from this earthly mortal coil that holds us back, perhaps in a true "dark night of the soul" for they are SO CLOSE to God, and need only our prayers and sacrifices to help them enter into eternal beatitude, finally reaching that eternal Wedding Feast of the Lamb.

We mourn here on earth, and it's proper to our state. We sow in tears, praying to one day reap in joy when finally, we, too are called by the Master to enter into His house. Perhaps we, too, will need to be purified, and we will need the prayers of the Faithful especially when Heaven touches Earth in the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass.

Today, let us mourn those we love, and those who have no one else to pray for them. Let us recall the Passion and Death of Our Lord and rejoice in His Sacrifice, for it is that very Sacrifice that gives us all hope for a blessed eternity. If we truly love those we have lost, that is what we will for them. Remember that death is not the end but really only the beginning of eternity.

Thank you, Jesus.

**

Lord, have mercy on us.

Christ, have mercy on us.

Lord, have mercy on us

Christ, hear us

Christ, most graciously hear us

Eternal rest grant unto them O Lord.

And may perpetual light shine upon them.
May the souls of the faithfully departed through the mercy of God rest in peace.

Amen.

The Liturgy: Heaven Torn Open

We face a crisis today: most Catholics don't know what the Liturgy is about, what happens, or why they should go to Mass. It's a sad commentary to admit that most of us don't know the first thing about the Mass, and consider it to be something akin to a childhood requirement and so we attend it for the same reasons: because we are TOLD to do so.

Yet how many ever bother to ASK why this is so? No wonder so many fall away! In this culture of relativism, no one thinks it NECESSARY to ask important questions about eternity, as they find it more convenient to rest in the lazy philosophy of this age that dictates comfort over sacrifice, orientation to self over orientation towards others, and outright hostility towards God versus love of a God who both Created and Saved us by becoming one of us!

A few years ago a friend of mine, a Baptist, asked why Catholics are required to attend Mass each Sunday.

I had a hard time answering him, because, firstly, based on his query, I was surprised he didn't seem familiar with the Ten Commandments, including the Commandment to keep Holy the Sabbath; what good Christian would EVER question the need to honor God on the day He designates? Who would DARE disobey such a simple Command? Whether we are Catholic or Baptist or Evangelical or Lutheran or Presbyterian or Methodist...who would EVER question this Divine Commandment necessitating the attendance of Worship on Sunday, the Day of Our Lord's Resurrection?

Are you INSANE to ignore Christ in favor of a Football or Baseball game? Come on, Christians, this ISN'T just a "Catholic thing"! Get your priorities straight!

Rant Over, Moving On to Original Topic...

For Catholics, though there is more; it's not just because it is a binding Commandment; in going back to my conversation with my friend, it was necessary to explain to him that one needs to ALSO understand what the Mass is about.

It's not a mere "service" where we sing a few songs and listen to a few readings, get a token akin to something used to clean our vehicles, and leave. The world wants to paint the Mass with such a parody, and refuses to recognize that such is so deeply offensive to us that in order to make reparation for the offense, we do even MORE of the same!

Oh, yes, the Mass, the Liturgy, is important; not just for us, right now in this moment, but for Eternity, for everyone, everywhere.

I write about it today, on the Feast of All Saints, because it is at Mass, at each and EVERY Mass throughout the year, that Heaven is torn open and all of Heaven and Earth, in all times, in all places, the Sacrifice of Calvary is made present. The Mass is the preparation for the Savior, the Nativity, the Birth of Christ, the explanation of that preparation (via the homily which expounds on the scriptures, if done according to what is supposed to be done), and finally the Sacrifice of Calvary. It is made present in all times, past, present and future.

When we kneel at the Consecration, we are kneeling at the foot of the Cross itself! The Precious Blood of Christ falls upon us, unless we repel it by our own sinful state! We must be open to receive the graces that come to us so freely through the offering of Jesus's Body and Blood!

The Liturgy is the public worship of the Church, wherein all the Angels and Saints, and we are present at the Sacrifice of the Lamb, at the Wedding, are all, together, the Bride who receives Him!

The Liturgy is where Heaven is torn open, where the Holy Spirit enters the Upper Room and all of Heaven is made present, not to condescend to our way of being, but to raise us up to the Heavenly Liturgy, where the Saints and the Angels Praise God eternally in their perpetual and infinite union with Him, all through the Wounds of Christ...who made it possible!

Poverty

I never learned this growing up. I learned that the Blessed Sacrament is Christ Himself, even though I couldn't understand. I still believed, for those wiser than me told me it was so.

But the Liturgy didn't help me to understand it, for rather the liturgy I remember and even experience today, through the music, enforces a sort of "symbolic" Holy Communion. We sing about "bread" and "wine" and about how we are "going" to encounter Jesus, ignoring the fact of our Liturgical and, therefore, ACTUAL reality that CHRIST IS PRESENT NOW!

When we attend Mass, yes, there is bread, but when we are "singing" (I use the term loosely) about it, in actuality, at that point, Christ Himself is made manifest in the Blessed Sacrament. We are present at Calvary but singing as though we are in the desert with the Israelites, eating only Manna!

Manna could not save our ancestors the Israelites and today, cannot save us!

When we attend Mass, we are NOT partaking in mere meltaway bread, but the very Body and Blood of Christ!

There is a great poverty in the Church today; there is a great disregard for what is happening, a total ignorance of the actual presence of the Lord, and of the Communion of Saints. There is a great disregard and total oblivion to the presence not only of the Cross, of the blood that saves us, but the worship of the Saints who kneel there with us in solidarity.

Today, on the Feast of All Saints, we are reminded of their presence, which is there every day. We are never alone, for those who have gone before us and rest with Our Lord still live, and they cannot live without praying. Why should we not ask for them to pray for us, too?

Today, on the Feast of All Saints, we recognize, out of ONE Liturgy throughout the year, their presence, although they are present at all, and tomorrow, on the Feast of All Souls, we ask those Saints to pray with us for all those who have died; we know not if they are Saints or whether they, most likely, burn in the purifying fires of Purgatory.

Indeed, most who die do not go straight to Heaven, but pass on to the Holy Fires of Purifying Purgation; let us pray for them, sacrifice for them, recognize what they suffer so that they can move on to Eternal Beatitude.

My dear readers, my dear friends, my dear visitors, pray for those who have died and do not forget them. Remember the Saints who have gone before you and who glorify God in their holiness, for it is ONLY God who makes anyone Holy. Pray for those in Purgatory, for they cannot pray for themselves but surely pray for YOU even if you do not recognize them in those holy, purifying fires.

Do not think the Liturgy is a sandbox or a playground belonging to the individual. It is the very household of God, set to order by Him alone, and we have the privilege of being invited. We are mere guests to this Heavenly Sacrifice and Feast, and have not the right to introduce our own themes or preferences.

To introduce our own ideals would alienate our Host, Our Lord Jesus Christ. To enter into this house and try to manifest our own comfortable preferences....how could any of us even consider such a debacle? How could ANY of us, upon entering upon a wedding feast, impose our lower preferences and seek to destroy the ideal of the Groom and the Bride?

Such is the Liturgy, which belongs to all times. The very moment we impose our own preferences, we leave Eternity in favor of personal fantasy, and if we are leading, we sacrifice grace for personal Pride. Do we DARE cut ourselves off from the Sacrifice of the Cross?

*

Sacred Mysteries

Today somone on Twitter raised a question arising from today's Divine Office reading, taken from Origen's homily on Joshua. She thought he was talking about salvation being limited to a certain few, wheras he is actually speaking in the context of the Sacraments, ie "Sacred Mysteries."

I'm going to quote a larger passage, not a "twitterable" one, so as to give better context which will aid in our understanding. (Words in bold were the passage being questioned.)

From Origen's Homily on Joshua:

"You have recently abandoned the darkness of idolatry, and you now desire to come and hear the divine law. This is your departure fro mEgypt. When you became a catechumen and began to obey the laws of the Church, you passed through the Red Sea; now at the various stops in the desert, you give time every day to hear the law of God and to see the face of Moses unveiled by the glory of God. But once you come to the baptismal font and, in the presence of the priests and deacons, are initiated into those sacred and august mysteries which only those know who should, then, through the ministry of the priests, you will cross the Jordan and enter the promised land. There Moses will hand you over to Jesus, and he himself will be your guide on your new journey."

There is actually a great deal of theology in this passage, and a great deal of history being alluded to which was relevant to Origin's audience. Thus I'd like to first point out that the overall context of the homily seems to indicate that those hearing it were converts from Judaism. In it, Origin is referring to their history, familiarity with Moses, the Red Sea, the Ark of the Covenant, etc. (I did not quote the entire reading for today). Had he been speaking to gentile converts, he would have had to explain these things as opposed to bringing them into the present and into the Christian understanding.

Now, as far as the text that the individual questioned, it seems clear to me that Origin is discussing the Sacraments. He refers to "initiation", and we refer to Baptism, Confirmation, and Holy Communion as the "sacraments of initiation". At that time, I believe catechumens received all three Sacraments at the same time.

If you read the passage again, it discusses the presence of priests and deacons, and specifically, that they are admitted to these mysteries through the ministry of the priests. This indicates the reception of Sacraments, as well as presence at the Paschal Mystery (e.g. the Mass)

What many do not understand is that Mass was not always so accessable to people. Recall that in the Early Church, Christians were greatly persecuted. All week in the Divine Office we've been reading about St. Ignatius; he was paraded to Rome in captivity to face his martyrdom, and in the process wrote something like 15 letters to those in his care. When he reached Rome, he was fed to the lions, and many other Christians, people like you and I, (from children to the elderly) also stood up and identified themselves publicly as Christians, and were ALSO sent to the lions.

It doesn't surprise me, then, that this reading follows, for the persecution of our ancestors was not the lame and cowardly persecutions we face today (at least, in America). Wheras we risk and suffer ridicule and maybe political "attack" in our countries, for them it was a crime to be Christian, and to publicly admit the affiliation was an automatic death sentence. A very torturous death, done for the entertainment of the pagan masses.

So it was that, in the Early Church, Mass was a secret meeting. The priests consecrated the bread and wine into the body, blood, soul, and divinity of Christ. They spoke of eating His flesh and drinking His blood, and yes, they did this quite seriously. St. Ignatius of Antioch, St. Clement of Rome, St. Irenaeus, St. Justin Martyr, St. Cyril, among others, all spoke of this Mystery (which today we call the Paschal Mystery).

There, deep in history, the rumor mill was just as active as it is today, even without benefit of the internet. The pagans, and others, sincerely believed the Christians were cannibals, and that they were meeting in secret in order to do their grisly and immoral deeds. Christians were hated and feared.

It was for this reason (among others) that St. Justin Martyr wrote Apologia, in an attempt to defend the Church, respond to the attacks, and put the rumors to rest.

At that time in history, strangers were not admitted to Mass. Catechumens (the non-baptized being instructed in the Christian faith, a term still used today) were barred from attendance until, for approximately three years, they had completed their instruction, had truly converted, and were ready to be admitted to the Mysteries. (To be specific, they were admitted to the Liturgy of the Word, ie the penitential rite, collect, Gloria, scripture readings, and the Homily, and were dismissed after this.)

St. Justin Martyr, in his 1st Apology, wrote about this practice:

No one may share the Eucharist with us unless he believes that what we teach is true, unless he is washed in the regenerating waters of baptism for the remission of his sins, and unless he lives in accordance with the principles given us by Christ.

We do not consume the eucharistic bread and wine as if it were ordinary food and drink, for we have been taught that as Jesus Christ our Savior became a man of flesh and blood by the power of the Word of God, so also the food that our flesh and blood assimilates for its nourishment becomes the flesh and blood of the incarnate Jesus by the power of his own words contained in the prayer of thanksgiving.

He explains here why others were not admitted to these mysteries, raising the demand of a conversion of life, of intent, of proving their ability to live "in accordance with the principles given us by Christ."

Those who became Christians then, through the Sacraments of initiation, knew what they were getting into. They were willing to die for it, and they were everyday witnesses to exactly what kind of death awaited them.

They were not willing to die for a lie, for a "mystery" that turned out to have been written by an early Dan Brown hack. When they were finally, at long last, admitted to the Church and initiated into those Mysteries, they knew what they were receiving, the importance of it, the sacredness, and the reality that this was going to cost them. They had to first die to themselves in order to risk dying for the Faith of Jesus Christ.

Salvation

Now, there was also the question of salvation, and I won't go into detail on this, but I can focus on some very simple beliefs.

We believe that baptism is NECESSARY for Salvation, and that no one enters heaven but through Jesus Christ. His suffering and death was for the remission of sin, paid the ransom owed, rendering Divine Justice through His perfect act of Mercy. But we must be baptized, the stain of original sin erased, and through this Sacrament, we enter the Church.

As Catholics, we recognize that Confirmation and Holy Communion complete our initiation into the Church, each Sunday we profess our Faith, and continue to live the sacramental life of the Church, even if it means that we receive the Sacrament of Confession daily if necessary! Even we who have been initiated are not admitted freely to the Sacrament of Holy Communion if we are in a state of mortal sin!

So, yes, Origin is ALSO speaking of salvation in this homily, but by no means is giving a discourse on that (no more than I am in this post!). His main point is the necessity and importance of the sacramental life, instruction in the relevence (and revelation!) of these mysteries for those upon whom the chrism oil still drips from their foreheads.

Today

Anyone can attend Mass today, no matter what their faith, and no matter how much they reject our beliefs. All are admitted. Yet, they cannot participate in the sacred mysteries that are the Sacraments; if they have not been instructed or reject those beliefs, they cannot be admitted for they are not in union with the Church.

I would argue that the early preparation given to the catechumens of that age probably better served to reveal the importance of the sacraments and the holiness of the Mass, far more so than the current (and typical) RCIA models do. Do I think we should make a return to what they had to do in the first centuries? Perhaps not; what was proper then might not be proper now, although I suspect that in places like India, the Sudan, and Saudia Arabia, this probably IS a more likely practice than that which we have here in America.

Persecution and suffering tends to impress upon those affected the holiness and grace of God far more than we butter-fed prosperous countries can muster on even our worst of days.

Something for us all to consider as we enter into perhaps the only season of "persecution" many of us have ever known.

Disclaimer:

I'm not overly familiar with early Church history as it applies to the Mass and Sacraments, so tried to keep my comments general. It's entirely possible that I erred in some of my statements, and so this post should not be taken as gospel fact. I would encourage anyone reading this to read formal documentation of this history, and definitely click on the link to St. Justin Martyr's 1st Apology.

Further, it's not intended to be a complete discourse on St. Justin Martyr or any of the other listed Saints, only a general explanation. I am not an expert in anything.

Another great resource is Rod Bennett's Four Witnesses; the Early Church in Her Own Words , available from Ignatius Press. I've read this book and cannot recommend it highly enough, especially for those who are unfamiliar with the Church Fathers and life in the Early Church.

Ordination Mass at the Cathedral of St. Paul

This morning I attended the Ordination Mass at the Cathedral of St. Paul, and it is the first time I've had the opportunity to be present for such an auspicious event.

In following advice from a friend, I arrived sometime around 8:45, wanting to be CERTAIN to get a parking place, because, let's face it; women's shoes are NOT made for walking. Not the kind of shoes that go with nice skirts, anyway. So it was that I had time to wander around the Cathedral and pray Morning Prayer in Sacred Heart Chapel.

For those who have never been to our Cathedral, it is history personified. The stained glass, the pillars, the altar...everything is a link to the very beginning of the Church, right from the side of Christ. One cannot possibly look ANYWHERE without seeing a connection to the Universal Church, whether through those who built this structure, those who first touched American soil, the first converts, and even the immense marble pillars that support the baldacchin over the high altar have a tale to share for those who inquire.

But today wasn't about that...it was about something with far more impact on us all than any building will EVER have.

I found my way to a pew in the rear section as the entire front section of the Cathedral was reserved for concelebrating priests and friends/family of those being ordained. Although I know one of them, I didn't feel I could claim a place among such elect, so found a spot near the front of the rear. It wasn't long, though, before someone recognized me and beckoned me forward to join her in the frontward section, so gratefully I stood and found myself in one of the prime locations in the Cathedral; somewhere near the middle of the front.

Ironically, I might have seen more had I remained in the rear and held my aisle position! But I digress.

The Mass began with a solemn chant, and all turned towards the entrance. I was in fact, entranced by the Crucifix held aloft amidst the smoke of incense and back lit by the bright sunshine even as it reflected the lights of the cavernous Cathedral nave. Slowly the procession, the likes of which I'd never seen before today, passed through the center; acolytes (seminarians), first bearing incense and the cross and candles, then the MC's (Master of Ceremonies), Deacons, Priests...finally those to be ordained, followed by the principle Concelebrants, most notable being several Bishops, including one from Chicago as well as our most recent Bishop-Elect, and of course his Excellency the Most Reverend John C. Nienstedt. They were followed by two priests (or seminarians?) garbed in vimpae, which look like humeral veils, bearing something with great respect. I later saw them bearing the Mitres and the Bishop's Crosier.

The readings were alternating English/Spanish, and at first I wondered about this, then realized that one or two of those to be ordained had spent a great deal of time in service to our Hispanic Catholics, so clearly, they would be in attendance. As I speak Spanish, I enjoyed both reading the translations as well as listening to the Word proclaimed in that language. Truth be told, though, I still didn't clearly understood it, nor would I have in Latin. (And for Mass, I prefer Latin...it's far more universal than a bilingual Mass...again, I digress!)

Rite of Ordination

Now for the big moment. Or rather...moments. Quite a series of them.

This begins, other than the Consecration, the most beautiful Ritual of the Church, and the most meaningful. I realized just in reading the program that this entire semester has prepared me to be able to absorb the import of this Mass. There I was, with Luke-Acts fresh in my memory, having written papers that focused on God's call to those He intends to be set aside, and, of course, on the Priesthood itself...in awe at watching the first Century taking place before my very eyes!

I must say here, that with this realization, I became very very conscious of the four brick and stone pillars surrounding us, signifying the four Gospels and their authors. I became very aware of the sanctity of the Church, the foundation, the protection, and the safety to be found within those walls. It was a safety that is not earthly, but spiritual, for any of us might be called to shed our blood just as did our Lord...yet His promises would NEVER fail us. It was a profound moment of gratitude for Jesus Christ and His Priesthood. It was a profound moment of knowing what it means to be Catholic.

The Rite of Ordination begins with the deacon calling forward those to be ordained. At the sound of their name, each stood, in turn, called out "Present!", passed the communion rail and mounted the steps to the altar, then turned to face the Archbishop. When all three were there, after some additional prayers, came the Election of the Bishop and Consent of the People.

The program cued us with the following:

Bishop: "Relying on the help of the Lord God and our Savior Jesus Christ, we choose these, our brothers, for the Order of the Priesthood."

Assembly: Thanks be to God!

The program notes here that the people show assent with applause. Which was, of course, quite enthusiastic, as you might imagine!

After this, the Archbishop gave his homily, from his Chair, not the lectern. He was speaking to the three ordinands who were seated before him. Unfortunately, for some reason although I greatly enjoyed his homily, I can't tell you the content! I can say, however, that his words were not for those men alone, but for us all, in some way, and I hope to come across a text version so that I can take time to read and digest the wisdom he conveyed today.

After the homily came another major moment; this is the Promise of the Elect, where the candidates must declare their intention to undertake the office of the priesthood and exercise their ministry worthily in imitation of Christ the High Priest.

Then...the Promise of Obedience. An all-or-nothing moment. Even I got cold feet, and no one was asking me to commit to anything! One cannot help but realize the weight of the moment, the gift being offered...and the free will to refuse.

One by one, the men went forward, bowed, knelt before the seated Bishop, and placed his folded hands in the Bishop's, pledging obedience. This is not done as a group, but individually. After this, the three men stood facing the altar, and then prostrated before it, and Our Lord, as the congregation stood and prayed the Litany to the Saints.

My friends, I can tell you...the Cathedral was FULL. Both the seen and the unseen.

Laying on of Hands

The ordinands again approach the Bishop, and, each in turn, kneel before him as he lays his hands on their heads, signifying the gift of the Holy Spirit conferring the priestly office. They return to their places, the congregation is seated, and each of the priests present ascend the altar to also impose hands to signify the new candidate's incorporation into the presbyterate.

Following this is the Prayer of Ordination, and the Investiture with the Stole and Chasuble, where the newly ordained priests are vested. Finally, they, once again, in turn, approach the Bishop so that he may anoint their hands with the Sacred Chrism.

The sign of peace, an embrace, is passed between the ordained, first the Bishop, and then, again, all the priests present file forward to greet their brother priests.

Liturgy of the Eucharist

This was not in the program, but when the gifts were brought forward, a chalice and ciborium were taken to the Bishop, and these were in turn, given to each of the newly ordained priests with the solemn admonition of the importance of their priestly ministry in consecrating the bread and wine into the Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of Jesus Christ.

The new priests stood with the Primary Concelebrants in direct participation, for the first time, of the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass.

From where we were seated, or rather, kneeling, it was quite impressive to be across the aisle from the hundreds of priests who remained standing, uttering, softly, in a reverent rumble, the words of Consecration. It was absolutely humbling, and in those moments, I was perhaps more able to sense the connection to priests all over the world, saying those same words, with the same intent, in union with one another, with the Pope.

The words of St. Irenaeus came to me: "There is one bishop, one altar...one sacrifice."

One High Priest. And all His chosen Sons, united, and He comes to us through their anointed hands.

Conclusion

There was a humorous moment as the Deacon stood and read where each of the three new priests would be available for blessings after the Mass. He read from a book and indicated simply that Fr. Ebert would be in St. Mary's chapel...to his right in the back.

The Archbishop, with a mischievous expression, standing at his Chair, just behind the Deacon but fully visible, quickly gestured to the back right of the Cathedral. A few chuckled.

The Deacon read that Fr. Eilen would be in St. Joseph's Chapel, to his left.

The Archbishop, right on cue, quickly gestured, pointing to the chapel to the rear left, immediately returning his hands to the proper pose. More chuckles. Louder, this time.

The Deacon read that Fr. Johnson would be found in St. Peter's Chapel, again, to his right.

The Archbishop, after a little pause, quickly pointed to his immediate right, and returned to his previous position. Outright laughter ensued.

The poor Deacon had NO IDEA what our beloved Archbishop was doing!

Blessings

I wasn't initially planning to go to one of the chapels for a blessing. I knew that only one of the new Fathers has met me and would not remember whether I was there to receive his blessing or not, although, of course I wanted to be a part of that tradition, as well. One of the wonderful things about attending an ordination Mass is receiving one of the First Blessings from the newly ordained, and perhaps kissing his newly-anointed hands!

So I let others leave, knelt down to pray for awhile, and then checked to see whether I had any time at all. Just a little. Feeling a bit "led", I walked towards St. Luke's pillar (and just now, as I write this, recognize the significance of that, given the studies of my semester). I paused to take a photo of the Saint, and just then, Archbishop-emeritus Flynn passed me, within arm's reach, Archbishop Nienstedt passed, blessing us (almost personal at that sparse point), and our new Bishop-elect passed by, greeting a Franciscan Friar who was actually waiting for me to take my photo, I think!

I continued on towards St. Joseph's chapel, praying to him as I also have a great devotion to him, and have for a long time. Somehow, I think my Guardian Angel must have orchestrated it, but I managed to weave through the crowd, never pushing anyone, just being moved along, even ushered by other people, and it wasn't long before I stood at the entrance to the chapel.

It was my great privilege to kneel before Fr. Eilen, grasp his hand, congratulate him, and receive his blessing, which was, as it were, almost a consecration to Jesus through Mary. Amen, Father.

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And so, after this long winding epic post, please let me have the wonderful privilege to congratulate our Newly Ordained Priests: Father Douglas Allen Ebert, Father Allen Paul John Eilen, and Father Michael Chrun Johnson. You are all in my prayers. Thank you for giving your fiat to Our Lord!

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*** You may be interested to know that Fr. Johnson was one of the seminarian blogers at Future Priests of the Third Millenium. Comments are turned off at that blog, but it is well worth following!

Keep Your Eyes on God

Recently, I had a very vivid dream. 

I was at work, but not in my own parish. It was in a Church in which I'd never been, but I was being drawn to visit Our Lord, and when I entered, I was surprised to see a small middle section of pews moved to the front and center of the church, pressed against the communion rail, front and center before the High Altar. In fact, it seemed even the High Altar had moved towards the rail.  There were plants and flowers around the altar/tabernacle, but there wasn't a single person in the room. 

I wasn't sure I was supposed to be there as it seemed it was set up for something special, and that center section seemed more proper to maybe priests than some random person like me. But all I wanted to do was pray, to spend time with Jesus, and so I went to the first pew, thinking if the Pastor or anyone else arrived and completed their setup for the event, I would get out of the way. 

As I prayed, more and more people began to arrive. Other people, lay people prepared a few things on the altar, such as a special monstrance. I was happy to be allowed to remain, thinking maybe there would be a benediction. 

A woman and her very ADHD son knelt down next to me. Well...she did. He was all over the place, freaking out, noisy.  As she tended to him, she leaned over to apologize to me. But her apologies were in vain for the child didn't disturb me at all. She did. Why was she apologizing for her son, who actually, was in the process of finding art and dragging it with great effort of out storage and into the sanctuary?  I was grateful for his overactivity, and irritated by the mother who knelt and focused on him...but not on God.  

People were everywhere, and suddenly I realized the pew section had expanded to accomodate them. I was now several rows from the altar, and moved a bit to the side as another section had been added.  The Church was filling up. Not with quiet people, though. Some were noisy, some were quiet and recollected. But...they were beautiful. Not in the real physical sense, but in their very presence. It was a mix of...everyone. 

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Somewhere around there, I woke up.  

This is a dream I pondered for awhile, a couple days, in fact. And then realized the obvious revelation:  throughout the dream, there was a voice saying, "Keep your eyes on Me" or "Keep your eyes on Jesus".  In the dream, no matter what happened, I kept my eyes on the tabernacle, and NOTHING disturbed me.  

(Nada te turbe. Let nothing disturb you.  ~ St. Teresa de Avila)  

Being moved backwards to allow others to come closer to Jesus..that seemed only right in the dream. I was not offended.  I was not disturbed. I could still see Him. Indeed, I wanted to be right at His feet, but He did not will it...it didn't matter. 

I realized that this is exactly what St. Catherine of Siena addressed, what all the Saints have addressed, what Pope Benedict XVI in Called to Communion addresed...what Jesus of Nazareth, our Lord and Savior ALWAYS taught:  Love God and love neighbor.   

No matter what we do, we have to keep our eyes on God. We don't "love our neighbor" and then love God. It's the other way around. We TRULY love others BECAUSE we love God and can't take our eyes off of Him. 

Even in my dream, I wondered because I couldn't figure out why all the noisy people didn't irritate me in my prayer. But it didn't matter...it was all about Jesus. They were just as drawn to Him as I, even if they didn't understand. Even if they weren't focused. They belonged to Him, too. 

It was all about love of God and love of neighbor.  Their being and purpose doesn't disrupt mine, but enhances it.  That constant litany, "Keep your eyes on Me" is what allowed me to love those around me, no matter how irritating they were. It made me UNDERSTAND them, and forgive them, and love them, more than I could ever have done on my own.  

What a lesson.  I needed that.  

I've been working hard, lately, on trusting God, in putting my focus on Him. I lost my focus. I looked at everything else, but put Him in a corner. 

I need to put God front and center in my life.  That means Mass, daily if I can get there, it means prayer needs to come before anything else (maybe even coffee!), and it means that when something disturbs me, I need to look to Christ in any way I can. Maybe it'll mean straining to look at Him over the tops of a mass of teeming people. Maybe it'll mean finding His presence interiorly. Maybe it'll mean just knowing He is there and believing even when I can't see.  

I've failed at this, and constantly fail at it.  But it's what we are called to do. 

The reality is that we need to keep our eyes on God, in every moment.  We need to know Christ, recognize the Cross, and know we are in its shadow. Life will never be easy.  But it is always Grace.  

What it comes down to is this:  If we aren't keeping our gaze upon God, then to whom or what do we dedicate our devotion?  

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The Good Shepherd Lives

Last weekend we celebrated Good Shepherd Sunday, and I spent that day working on a paper on Luke-Acts for my New Testament class.

As I read again the narrative of the birth of Christ, suddenly I was struck by the fact, and the inherent symbolism of those first told of the birth of Our Lord: the Shepherds.

His very birth itself, the very location, of course, makes this call to the Shepherds obvious, for Jesus was not born into a pristine stable akin to the ones found at Churchill Downs, but rather, a cave. The caves that skirt Bethlehem, to this day, are used in the same way; to protect the flocks at night. This is where Jesus Christ was born.

Our Lord, the Good Shepherd, was born in a place used to shelter sheep, and was placed in a wooden manger, from which those sheep might be fed.

St. Leo the Great declared that the wood of the manger is that of the wood of the Cross, so we see that immediately from birth, our Good Shepherd was being prepared, as the gospels say, to lay down his life for his sheep.

Yet there is another connection; the Shepherds themselves. The Angelic messengers were sent to the Shepherds by God to call them to the side of Christ as He lay in the manger.

Are you seeing what I am seeing? Are you seeing the pattern emerging?

The Shepherds...shepherds...were CALLED by God (via the Angels), to go to the side of Christ as He lay in the manger.

The Shepherds were called to the SIDE OF CHRIST. 

33 years later, the Church would be born out of that precious side, from the very act Jesus proclaimed in the gospels in such eloquent terms; for Jesus is the Good Shepherd who laid down His life for the flock. He laid down on the Cross, and then was lifted up, drawing all men to Himself, and there, from His pierced side, the Church was born.

What did the Shepherds do when they left the side of the Infant Jesus? They proclaimed the Good News, the birth of the Messiah. They proclaimed the miracle. They were first called by God, and then sent to fulfill His will. The Shepherds...proclaiming the Good Shepherd who was born amidst a flock and laid in the wood of the manger. (Luke 1:8-20)

But there's more, isn't there? What is the Priesthood? Who are the Bishops? 

Pastors. Shepherds.

Who proclaim the good news and by laying down their own lives, they lead us through the Cross and into Eternal Salvation.  

Have you seen a Bishop's crosier lately?

Just as the Shepherds were called to the side of Christ and sent to proclaim the good news of His birth, so was the Church born out of the side of Christ, Apostles called to the scene of His Resurrection, and the Holy Spirit sent to the Apostles to continue the saving mission of Christ:  to preach the Good News, to bring Christ to the world, yet in a perfect fulfillment of the New Covenant. For the Shepherds today, too, are called to proclaim the Gospel, but with a profound authority that can be given only by God to those whom He calls, they bring Jesus Christ to His people, for it is the Good Shepherd Himself who continues to feed His flock through their hands. 

Just as the call to the Shepherds in Luke was expressed through the Angelic messengers, so today is the call and the authority passed on today through Holy Orders, for God speaks clearly through those to whom He gave the authority. (John 20:21 ff,  Luke 9: 1-2,  Acts 6:6)

It is this image, this proleptic image of the shepherds called to the side of the Infant Jesus that struck me on Sunday as I realized the eternal call of Christ to those who would Shepherd in His place, in His name, through His direct authority.  

In and through them, the Good Shepherd is brought to us, is fed to us, body, blood, soul, and divinity.  They, who have been called to the side of Christ, to enter into His wounds, to become one with Him, so that we might all have life within us.

  

If there were no Shepherds to offer the Sacrifice of Christ on our behalf, to come after us when we are lost, to call us again to the side of the Good Shepherd, we would be lost forever.  We would be taken by the wolves that roam so freely.  

We know our Good Shepherd, and we know those who stand in His place, and through them, we heed His voice and are fed, not just the Word, but the entirety of salvation. 

Our Good Shepherd, Jesus Christ the High Priest, did not lay down His life in vain, but continues to live through those He has chosen and who have answered that Call.  He comes to us through their consecrated hands, made present among us and uniting us in Holy Communion of His Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity.  Jesus claims us as His own through Baptism, completed in Confirmation, and speaks through His Priests in the Sacrament of Confession. He passes His authority through the Sacrament of Holy Orders.  He heals and brings salvation to us through the Sacrament of the Sick. 

 

All through the hands and authority of those chosen to Shepherd and guide we, His flock.  

Thank you, Jesus, for the gift of your Priesthood, and for all those you have chosen and called to serve in your place.  

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